


Why Did It Have To Be Jelly

by sabriel82



Category: Daredevil (TV), Hawkeye (Comics)
Genre: Clint Barton is done with your shit, Deaf Clint Barton, Established Relationship, Fluff, Idk just something cute and dumb, M/M, Matt 'im fine' Murdock, dumpster bros, sick!Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8640811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel82/pseuds/sabriel82
Summary: Based on "you found me crying in the kitchen surrounded by a shattered jelly jar"





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fucking favorite kayak, these two dumpster disasters.( I wrote this at three am and any and all mistakes are mine. I don't own shit.)

“Matt? Are you alright?” Clint flicked on the kitchen light, illuminating a hunched figure on the floor that had better be Matt or he was gonna be pissed. He still was a little pissed when he saw that it was him. “Matt, what the actual fuck? Do you have any idea what time it is?”early as fuck, that's what time it was. He took a step forward and hissed, hopping back and grabbing his foot. “Aw, glass no” he pulled the shard out and grimaced at the blood that welled up, licked his thumb and swiped it over the wound to slow the flow. 

Matt still hadn't moved from where he was kneeling, only Clint noticed now that he was shaking. Crying? He should've put his hearing aids in. He picked his way across the floor and over to the broom, swept his way over to his partner, who should've been in bed, not crying on the kitchen floor. He knelt next to him and tapped his shoulder lightly

“what's wrong?” 

“Nothing” Matt replied, or it could’ve been _muffin._

“This doesn't look like nothing. There's jelly and glass _**everywhere**_ Why aren't you in bed?” 

“Couldn't sleep” or _wooden sheep_ , and fuck Clint needed to start remembering his aids when Matt was around. Which was all the time. 

“And the jelly?” He quirked a brow and made a wide gesture around them. Boy, was he glad Lucky was with Kate right now. 

“I dropped it” Matt said, and sneezed, getting jelly on his forehead with the butter knife when he went to cover his mouth. Clint noticed now how warm he felt in comparison to usual.

“You're sick.” Clint eased the knife out of Matt's hand before he stabbed his eye out, and prepared himself for-

“No, I’m not.” ( _ho, a pot_ ) 

Clint rolled his eyes. He was willing to bet dollars to dog-shit that Matt was congested as fuck and about an hour away from kneeling in front of the porcelain throne. “Because you drop and shatter jars all the time. _Right._ No, I believe you. You are one hundred percent _not sick at all._ Nope. Never been sick in your life.” He injected as much sarcasm as humanly possible into his tone. 

“Exactly” Matt agreed, nodding and trying to surreptitiously wipe his nose on his sleeve.

“See, your mouth says one thing, but your body says another. Go to bed, Matt.” 

“No, I gotta clean this up” Matt shook his head and grabbed for the broom still in Clint’s hand. When it took him three tries to grab it, Clint gave him the ‘I must be broke as a joke, ‘cause I ain't buying it, Matto’ look. Not that he could see it, but still. 

“Matt. No. If you're so sick you can't super-sense the broom right next to you, you're not allowed to use it. It's in the rules. _Go to bed._ ” Clint refrained from crossing his arms. Barely. And since when was he the responsible one? 

Matt shook his head. “I can't sleep” Clint was about four seconds away from throwing him over his shoulder and dragging him to the bed. But that wouldn't work with Sick Matt, he’d learned the hard way last time. 

“I’m calling bullshit. You look like a light breeze could knock you over. Sleep is the best thing for you right now.” _best thing for everyone at three in the goddamned morning_ he didn't say. “I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be back up too. Go. Sleep. Sleeeeeep. Go.” He stood and held a hand out for Matt to get up. “Matt. Matty. Matt matt McBatBat. Matty matt matter moo. Maaaaat. Maaaaaathew. Maaaa-”

“Alright, I’m going” Matt got up of his own volition and swayed violently. Clint grabbed his shoulder and spun them around, frog marching him out of the danger zone. He thought he felt Matt say something else, but he didn't have any clue what. _(“Never shoulda let you and Foggy talk to each other alone”)_. 

Clint deposited him on the couch instead of letting him brave the stairs and crack his fucking head open “stay here. Sleep. Or nap. Whatever. Close your eyes and stop doing stuff.” He nudged his shoulder, pushing him over a little “that means get horizontal.” He waited for Matt to lay down and ignored his lips moving. From the look on his face, it was probably just nonsensical grumbling. 

Satisfied with that, he turned back to the kitchen and inwardly sighed. _Why did it have to be jelly._ He tugged on a pair of rain boots, ( _they were the first thing he could find, okay_ ) and swept up the glass and big globs of jelly as best he could, wrinkling his nose at the way it mostly smeared around. Gross. 

Not even ten minutes later when he went to go fill up the bucket, he saw Matt dead to the world on the couch, mouth hanging open in what had to be some chainsaw snores. _“Can't sleep”_. Pfft. Still, he tried to keep the water sloshing to a minimum when he went back passed, not wanting to wake him up again. 

Thirty minutes, four moppings, and two buckets of water later, the kitchen floor was no longer sticky, and didn't smell like a four berry bomb had gone off in it. Gold star. He dumped the water down the tub and pocketed a bottle of ibuprofen and some cold medicine, poured two glasses of water out of Matt's filter fridge thing, and went to go collect the man of the hour himself. “Matt, hey get up and take this for me” he tapped his shoulder again and stepped out of swinging range. 

Matt didn't flinch awake like he sometimes did, instead blinking slowly and glaring in Clint's general direction. He said something and Clint rolled his eyes. “I can't read your lips upside down. Sit up and take this so we can go to sleep.”

“I was asleep”

Oh, so the previous little kid whinging was gone? “Yeah, I know. But think about how much better the sleep will be in an actual bed. Take the medicine. Drink the water. Come on.” He slid an arm under Matt and pushed him upright. He could get offended over the help later, Clint didn't care anymore. “Ibuprofen and cold medicine. I don't wanna hear it, just take the fuckers and go pass out for thirteen hours. I’ll call Foggy.” preemptive striking was important when dealing with Matt's of all stages of coherency. 

Matt grumbled some more but took the water when Clint bumped it against the back of his hand and held out his hand for the pills “-be useless” Clint caught the tail end.

“Better you passed out in bed than destroying anything else in the kitchen” Clint handed him the pills and was a little tempted to do a pill check when he took them without further complaint. “Alright, come on, up” he grabbed Matt's water from him again, protecting against any more glass related incidents. 

Matt levered himself up slowly, but didn't immediately try and nose-dive into the ground, so Clint counted it as a win. He prodded him ahead, following right behind him up the stairs in case he toppled again. 

Finally, _finally_ back in bed, Clint tossed the blanket into the corner of the room, and ignored more of Matt's complaining “Nope. No blankets. You have a fever, and I don't wanna have to lug your ass into the shower when it gets high enough to fry your brain outta your head” he cracked an eye to see Matt's response.

“You suck.” Matt's hair was stuck up every which way, and he was pouting. Actual Adult™ Matt Murdock, everyone. 

“Yeah, probably.” Clint agreed and carded his hand through Matt's bedhead, a futile effort to tame it. “Stop being cute and go to sleep.”

“I’m not being cute. I’m _miserable_ ” Matt made what Clint supposed was an angry face, but his eyebrows weren't into it, and it just looked like more pouting, then yawned. 

Clint chuckled lightly and kept the hair stroking up, Matt's super secret sleep causing weakness. “I’ll bet.” he yawned himself “go to sleep so I can go to sleep” he wasn't above a little guilt tripping when it was ultimately good for all parties involved. Which it was. Besides, Matt looked mostly asleep again anyways, if the loosening of his jaw and pout was any indicator. 

“I am asleep” Matt mumbled, a puddle of Matt shaped stuff on his side of the bed. Clint just snorted and didn't bother replying, stopping his hand motion when he felt the snoring start back up. 

He fell back asleep with his hand still tangled in Matt’s hair, and didn't wake up until Foggy was shaking him awake, frowning. Right. He was supposed to call. Oops. This was why he wasn't the responsible one.


End file.
